It had been the same last time. One look like that, and I'd cave—every time.

Their "small favor" meant risking everything just to feed Amelia answers for a whole year.

Once, a teacher even caught me. I took the fall to protect her. That lie? It became their biggest piece of "proof" when they told the world I was a cheater.

I kept my face soft, eyes downcast—but inside, I was done playing nice.

"Dad, Mom, Amelia... It's not what you think. I've been dizzy a lot. Short of breath. Even had a nosebleed in class. My teacher said I should take a year off to rest."

Back then, I survived on scraps while Amelia got the good stuff. I scrubbed their clothes in freezing water, handled all the chores, studied until my body broke down.

No sleep, no food, no care—just endless tutoring and pressure.

Of course I collapsed. Of course I died that night.

I'd tried to speak up before.

They never listened.

But this time, I was done sacrificing myself. That fear—freezing to death, alone—still clung to me. Nothing mattered more than staying alive.

I started coughing, hard, until tears blurred my vision. Then I pulled out a blood-streaked tissue, hand shaking.

Their eyes widened—shock, annoyance, a flicker of panic. But not one drop of actual concern.

Mom's voice cut through, low and tense. "System, what's happening? Why is her health crashing? Should we take her to the hospital?"

The reply came in that weird robotic tone: "Unusual. Her vitals are low, but not dangerously so. No big deal—as long as she makes it to the SATs. Take her in for a checkup, just in case."

But Mom hadn't moved her lips. Only she and that creepy voice had said anything—Dad and Amelia just stared, freaked out.

So Mom could talk to the System.

And I could hear it.

Lucky me.

She gave the tiniest nod, then slapped on a fake worried look, helped me up, and promised a hospital trip tomorrow.

Step one: done.

I wasn't actually sick.

Just red ink. Classic fake-out.

***

Money changes everything. Instead of curling up in a freezing kitchen with cramps and cheap painkillers like last time, I got a full hospital checkup.

The doctor said I was seriously undernourished. No more heavy lifting, eat on time, take supplements, rest—or I'd crash within a year.

After that, I had the first real meal of my life. Stuff I used to only dream about was plated perfectly in front of me. They even told me to eat more.

I nearly cried with every bite.

But the anger just kept building.

That fire in my chest? It snapped me out of it and shoved me straight into step two.

"Mom, the doctor said no heavy work for me... so who's handling the chores now?"

I added, all soft and shaky, "I really want to help out, but my body's just not holding up. If I push it, I might have to take medical leave like the teacher warned... and it's such an important year. I don't even know if I'll do okay on the SATs..."

Last time, I couldn't live in the dorms. Had to come home daily just to cook for them. I even packed balanced meals for Amelia while I ate leftovers. Still, I studied like crazy—because it was the only shot I had.

I let a few tears slip, lifted my pale face, and hit them with the saddest look I could pull off.

Mom jumped in fast. "Don't worry about the house. We'll handle it. Just focus on getting better and studying. Starting now, you'll stay at school. I'll make you something nice on the weekends."

I gave her a small, guilty nod.

Inside? I was laughing.

They weren't helping me—they just wanted to dump me at school. Like a couple of weekend meals could buy off my future?

No chance. Everything you stole from me last time—I'd take it back. One piece at a time.

***

Mom, Dad, and Amelia pushed me to get back to school so I wouldn't fall behind.

I played along, kept my head down, and went back to studying.

A month flew by. First round of senior practice exams—I let Amelia crash on her own. She pulled a 580.

I dropped mine on purpose, landing at 1390. Easy. With two lifetimes of grinding, faking scores was second nature.

When I walked in that night, the house felt thick with tension. They were on the couch, watching me like I'd committed a crime.

Their eyes said it all: if I wasn't number one, I was nothing.

Mom shot me a side-eye. Dad twirled a belt in his hand. Amelia popped grapes like she was front row at a show.

No surprise there—the belt was always next. Upset them even a little, or let Amelia whisper something nasty, and I'd get anything from skipped meals to a beating.

But this time, I dropped to my knees before it even started.

"Dad, Mom, I swear I've been trying. The cafeteria food's gross—I've been eating and throwing up all month. I'm sick all the time, falling asleep in class. Now with the cold, I even caught a cold. That's why my score tanked."

Only then did they seem to notice my pale face and the flimsy layer I had on. Their confusion was almost funny—like, 'We've ignored her for years and she was fine, so what's wrong now?'

My eyes stung. "How about I take the leave my teacher suggested? I can come home, help around, and Amelia can shine this year."

Silence. They knew Amelia's grades would humiliate them.

They waved me off, told me to rest. They needed to think.

Later that night, I crept out for water and caught Dad muttering in the living room. "Should we let Evelyn move back home?"

Mom snapped, "What? Move her back? Then I'd have to cook for her! She can't even wash dishes, so I'd be stuck doing her laundry too. Ugh, just seeing her face annoys me!"

Mom's voice turned syrupy. "Not like Amelia—she's gorgeous and so well-behaved."

Dad sighed. "It'll be fine once she graduates. If Amelia gets into Harven University and things click with the Ashford heir..."

Harven. One of the top schools.

Julian Ashford had just gotten in this year. They wanted Amelia trailing after him, banking on proximity magic.

The Ashfords—owners of the Ashbourne Group—were the kind of dynasty that arranged marriages. The snag? Julian's mom, famous for being a snob about academics. She'd flat-out said only girls studying in prestigious universities deserved her son. So, with a Harven acceptance, Amelia had a shot.

So that was it. They didn't dismiss me just for being plain. I wasn't loved because I wasn't pretty? My pale face came from years of skipping meals, my weak body from taking care of them.

Even the scar Mom hated looking at—she gave me that. Poured boiling water on me when I was little. Thinking back, that was about when their "love" started disappearing.

The scar was barely noticeable now. Time blurred it, and I kept it hidden under clothes and loose hair. No classmate had ever caught on.

They'd written me off, but still wanted my scores. Life didn't work that way.

***

The next morning, we sat down for breakfast.

Dad pushed back his chair. "Evelyn's not dropping out. From now on, Amelia will bring her food. And Evelyn—money's tight. Go through Amelia's closet and grab whatever you like."

Amelia's eyes went wide. "Dad, Mom! Are you serious?!"

Yeah, she hadn't been warned.

That's when it clicked. They didn't love anyone—just whoever could give them something.

"So, Amelia... get ready. Hell's about to knock back," I said inwardly.

Dad and Mom brushed her off. She had no choice but to haul food to me every day, just like I used to for her.

Not too early—couldn't cut into my tutoring. Not too late—couldn't ruin my nap.

For clothes, I picked the thickest jackets, the warmest layers.

She tried whining, but Mom, for once, shut her down. My grades came first.

The autumn wind bit hard. Amelia, always dressing light for looks, had to shiver outside my classroom, waiting.

All for my grades. She just had to grit her teeth and take it. More than once, I caught my parents whispering, "Once Evelyn's SATs are over, everything of hers will be yours—her future, her man. Then your good days start."

Then came the next mock exam. I didn't hold back this time—scored a 1536.

Mom and Dad were over the moon. Amelia beamed like she'd earned it herself.

In their eyes, she had.

With my score back up, they started hinting again about me helping Amelia cheat.

This time, I didn't say no.

Perfect. The higher she climbed, the harder the crash would be. It wouldn't be long before they dropped Amelia too.